


Asshole's Guide to Coding Physics in Larva

by CorporealAnomaly



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Other, graphic description of peeing i guess, inspired by an actual coding manual for Java so good god is it nerdy, lots of cereal eating, lots of sol being alone in his apartment, nerdy and lascivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-14 11:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17507663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorporealAnomaly/pseuds/CorporealAnomaly
Summary: “Introductory physics courses are full of simplifications: projectiles fly without air resistance, pendulums swing only at small angles, orbits are always circular, and no more than two particles move at any time. These kinds of simplifications are necessary and appropriate when you’re first trying to understand the basic laws of nature. But the real world is far more complex, and far more interesting.”-Daniel V. Schroeder





	Asshole's Guide to Coding Physics in Larva

Ch1: Hello World!

* * *

You have absolutely no goddamn clue how long you’ve been sitting at your desk now. You have this thought as you are scrubbing behind your glasses, the blissful darkness taking its sweet ass time to resolve on the heels of the negative after-image of your computer screen. You distantly remember the feeling of having to piss what was roughly somewhere between 20 minutes and 4 hours ago, and as you wiggle the foot tucked under your thigh, the searing urinary desire returns with the feeling of your entire lower body. “FuuCK,” you screech aloud into the silence of your dark respiteblock, your voice dry and cracked like a beehouse mainframe mistakenly left out on the gander precipice overday.

With a degree of caffeinated shaking from your wrists that you are not entirely comfortable thinking about in regards to your longevity, you push your chair away from your desk and go about uncurling your limbs. A glittering, electrical pain shoots from your heels to your thorax as you do, but with some cursing and squirming, you end up on your feet which, to your great relief, still function as they’re ought to. The muscles of your abdomen are painfully constricted around your full bladder as you scurry as quickly as possible through the dark hallway of your communal hivestem to the ablution block, miserably squawking as you flounder with the door handle. You sit on the gaper suffering impatiently as it takes two, three, four, five, _six_ crippling seconds of agony before your stream starts up and 7 more before you begin to feel anything but burning pain.  Relieved, you exit the block to find that yes, your hivestem is in fact dark. Reason being, fuck, you worked through the whole damn day.

Moving your tongue around uncomfortably, you retreat back through the doorframe you just exited.  You throw your glasses haphazardly aside and turn on the ablution basin, gulping water carelessly from the tap until you’re coughing and gasping air having started to sort of waterboard yourself in your race to cure your drymouth. Face dripping, you blindly grab at the faucet, claws slipping on the slick metal and fumble the tap shut. Your panting is the only sound in the still of the air, and as you glance up at the reflection pane, your eyes light the small space in front of you like some kind of psionic automobile.  Your look like a smacked ass, and that’s being gracious. Especially in the blue and red lighting, your skin looks sallow and drained with, not to mention, a shadowy pair of dark, crescent-moon eyebags to boot. Nice. You prod a claw at an acne spot on your jawline that sears painfully. Double nice.

Kneading at the nape of your neck with your knuckles, you sigh deeply and turn away from your ghostly reflection into the hall of your hive. Albeit short, (you have like, 4 rooms) with every heavy step the hall feels like it stretches on into oblivion. And although breakfast sounds really enticing to your grumbling gastric tubes, the fact that you feel like you’re in a vacuum of space in not even 15 feet of hall is telling of how much your scrawny excuse for a husk needs the fucking ‘coon. It occurs to you that you could have psionically flown yourself to the ablution block and back without resorting to absurd physical theatrics, but of course it’s way too late for that now. Rolling the stiffness out of your shoulders, you stoop over your computer to power it down and...are you fucking kidding me.

 

caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

**CA: hey sol**

**CA: howw do you do that thing wwith your strife specibus to make it not**

**CA: like**

**CA: suck**

**CA: or wwhatevver**

**CA: i mean im not askin because i think you dont suck**

**CA: because you do**

**CA: this is an invvariable fact that im statin for the record**

 

Letting irritation get the better of you, you type a quick and biting reply.

 

**TA: oh my gliibberiing fuck you ma22iive behemoth leaviing**

**TA: are you 2o fuckiing desperate two harra22 me that you can’t even waiit untiil a decent hour of the niight two crawl diirectly iinto my coon and leave a wet 2loppy goodeveniing fii2h ki22 on my iinnocent, 2leepiing bulge?**

**TA: go 2hove a 2hiity wand iin your fragrant nook.**

**CA: oh hey you answwered**

**CA: wwhat are you glubbin on about its like 9 sol**

 

“What," you hiss out loud, squinting at the debilitating, too-bright shade of gray from the trollian client. You look wildly at the tiny numbers of the clock nestled in the bottom corner of your screen. 9:02 PM. Shit, he was right. The oh-two makes you feel, if anything, even more annoyed. You had figured it had to be around 5 if not earlier. Fuck, you need sleep.

 

**TA: ii’m 2leepiing 2quakweed, ii’ll talk two you later**

**TA: do iit your2elf**

**CA: wwait just help me wwith this “hello wworld!” thing**  

**TA: are you**

**TA: tryiing to code?**

 

You...had not been expecting that if you’re being honest with yourself. You almost make to get back into your chair when you remember that you don’t give a shit about this whiny tool.

 

**TA: ask KK, iim out**

**twinArmageddons [TA]** **ceased trolling** **caligulasAquarium [CA]**

 

You log out quick before he can respond and use the last bit of brainpower you can muster to psionically slam dunk yourself into the recuperacoon.

 

* * *

 

 

When you come to, it is, unfortunately, blaringly bright outside. You groan and peel yourself stickily out of the ‘coon. Cracking your stiff neck, and with a perfectly distinguished amount of hopping around and hissing, you shuck your sopor-soaked clothes wetly to the floor and stride with nude purpose to the waiting embrace of the ablution trap. You shift your weight impatiently as you wait for the water to heat up. It’s never terribly cold in your hive during the day, of course, but somehow the shit that comes out of the pipes in this stem is always just frigid enough to make you uncomfortable and resentful of your financial situation. Especially on the crisp, 1st Perigee’s evenings that are way cooler than Alternia ever got, when you are too cheap to use the central heating.

You hop in quickly as the pane starts to fog up and gasp as the searing shower hits your skin. It’s always either too hot or too cold, and if you have to choose, you prefer being painfully steamed like a vegetable to being lukewarm and shivering. You stand there unmovingly in the stream letting the water melt the sopor off of your skin. Your mind starts to wander blissfully as you grab for the soap.  

Lathering your torso, you consider your thighs, flushed deeply with green-yellow. Your thighs are one of those things that is weird to consider for some reason. The reason, probably, being that you don’t think of them in any other context except the top of your legs unless they’re bare.  It’s less of a sexy feeling than it is feeling weirdly exposed, though, you think. This was where you had “clammed up” when you were with FF that one time. She had taken you apart so softly, you remember, staring at the pale vanilla plastic wall of the block as water runs in rivulets down your face. She smelled like seawater and some kind of flower, sweet and savory. Her hair that hung in curtains over you was like a wave of it. If you hold your breath you can almost taste it right on the edge of your throat. The feeling of being with her was like the opposite of this, though. You remember that the night was warm and humid. Salt hung thickly in the spray of the air near the shore. Yet she was so sharply cold. Her hands, her lips, where she touched you, your skin had burned with an icy snap, refreshing and bright. But in temperament, she was as warm as the air, glowing with compassion and taking in every inch of you with eyes that looked like they could see nothing else. You snap your eyes open blearily to the weak yellow glow of the block fixture. If you had been just a _little_ more flushed for her, you think woefully.

You consider this as you rake your claws through your wet hair, a clawtip skimming the chitin of your horn with an electrical jolt. The water is decadent. The heat of it smooths over your body like a low electric hum as the too-hot drops pepper across your skin. You think maybe you want to think a little more of FF, but the water is too hot, the smell of your own block too different that you find the memory fading out of your grasp. Somehow, though, you still find yourself with your fingers flexing softly at the edges of your nook, your head lolling softly at your shoulder. You inhale the fragrance of your own spicy, lemon soap and tease your entrance lightly, your exposed nape pounded in the hot stream like welding sparks.  

It suddenly, bulge-killingly occurs to you how much more expensive your electricity bill is going to be if you spend time jerking off in the ablution trap, so you decide to give up and cut this one short.

And this is why you will undoubtedly be executed by the filial drones.

 

You leave the steam of the ablution chamber and climb into a fresh outfit you left folded up on top of your small metal meal block chair. You think gratefully about that fact that there’s no lusus to forget about feeding now, considering you’ve barely allowed yourself the luxury of your own upkeep the past few days.

 

Replacing the now almost two-day old coffee filter you left stewing in the top, you slide an only-used-twice mug under the spout of your coffee machine and hunt around for something to consume that would not require washing the dishes piled up in the basin. You settle on a bran cereal with dried fruit and grubs.

Juggling your cereal and coffee precariously (you like to fill everything up way too far) you return to your desk and boot up your computer. The following is the first to greet you.

** carcinoGeneticist [CG]  ** ** began trolling  ** ** twinArmageddons [TA] **

** CG: SOLLUX ARE YOU THERE? **

** CG: FOR SOME REASON THIS MASSIVE PURPLE TOOL HAS BEEN BARKING UP MY NUB THE ENTIRE GODDAMN NIGHT ABOUT CODING WHICH I CAN ONLY ASSUME CAN BE SOURCED BACK TO YOU NOT WANTING TO DEAL WITH HIS SHIT AND REFERRING HIM TO ME INSTEAD **

** CG: WHILE I’M FLATTERED YOU’VE FINALLY REALIZED MY TRUE, UNADULTERATED PROWESS IN THE SUBJECT, IF HE DOESN’T STOP BOTHERING ME I WILL INITIATE A TRULY INCONCEIVABLE ABLE-BODIED FUCKING ARABESQUE OFF THE GRAB-CYLINDER, STRAIGHT THROUGH THE WINDOW OF YOUR COMMUNAL HIVESTEM AND PLUMMET TO AN UNTIMELY DEMISE **

 

“Ehehe,” you chuckle, feeling a bit guilty. It’s about 12:50 PM now, and a bit too late, or quite a bit too early to reply (you know he wakes up at the drop of a pin) so you click to the other blinking tab of the client where said MASSIVE PURPLE TOOL is awaiting a reply.

 

** caligulasAquarium [CA] ** ** began trolling  ** ** twinArmageddons [TA] **

** CA: sol **

** CA: sollllllllll **

** CA: ok wwhen you said you wwere sleepin ill admit i didnt buy it but youre obvviously not awwake or youd be at the computer  **

** CA: just troll me wwhen you get up **

** TA: does the 2iide of my head 2ay “plea2e make your2elf at home wa2tiing my tiime, ii have liiterally nothiing ii would rather be doing than talkiing two a hiip2ter wiith a god complex” **

** TA: except maybe, liike, perforatiing my bulge with a culliing fork  **

** CA: comin on a bit strong there dont you think **

** TA: Her sweet, Conde2cendiing, niictiitatiing membrane2, ii am NOT fliirting wiith you  **

** CA: anywway so I wwanted a ask **

** CA: since youre up and talkin to me **

 

Ugh, you kind of can’t believe you are sitting here actually giving your attention to him. You forgot (somehow) how much you hate waiting the few seconds between replies as he inputs string after string of douchey, meaningless sentence fragments. You take a long drag of your coffee while it’s still hot.

 

** CA: wwhats the difference between Larvva and Larvvascript **

 

You let out a puff of air halfway between a wheeze and a scoff. Where would you even begin. They’re just different languages. They do different things. The fact that they sound the same is just an idiotic fluke of the tech industry that was probably some kind of marketing scheme.

 

** TA: ju2t read the developer web2iite **

** TA: that thiing i 2aiid before?  **

** TA: about me haviing nothiing better two do? **

** TA: that wa2 me beiing diisiingenuou2 for iironiic purpo2e2  **

** TA: and ab2olutely not fuckiing hatefliirtiing **

** CA: yeah this right **

** CA:  ** **https://developer.mycelia.org/ALT/docs/Web/LarvaScript/About_LarvaScript**

** CA: im not quite understandin wwhat it means about bein “object oriented” and wwhatnot **

** CA: wwhat are the practical applications **

 

Huh. you are surprised that he actually read the website instead of just harassing you into doing the research for him. Not bad, Ampora.

 

** TA: well both Larva and L2 are object oriiented 2o don’t even worry about that **

 

You mull over an explanation for a bit, rolling coffee around on your tongue.

 

** TA: really 2iimply 2tated L2 is run iin brow2er2 for 2criiptiing, and Larva i2 a fun toy  **you start to type, then erase. Instead, you send

** TA: they’re ju2t different, ok, piick one and learn iit **

** CA: wwoww thanks really solid explanation sol **

** CA: wwhatevver its fine **

** CA: ivve already finished wwriting a program in larvva anywway **

** CA: wwhich brings me to my next question **

** CA: howw do i run the program sol  **

 

You heave a pretty hefty sigh and look at the time. 12:57 PM. Unfortunately, you really do have nothing better to now right now than talk to a hipster with a god complex, considering you don’t really have a culling fork handy.

 

** TA: ok where diid you put the fiile **

** CA: just on the desktop **

 

“Amateur,” you say aloud, rubbing at your face behing your glasses

 

** TA: alright fiishdiick tiime to get 2choolfed **

** TA: the de2ktop iis a 2tupiid place for a larva fiile **

** TA: 2cratch that **

** TA: any fucking fiile **

** TA: liike how may fucking fiile2 do you have on your damn de2ktop atm? **

** TA: actually ii kiind of don’t even want two know, iit’2 makiing me clau2trophobiic ju2t thiinkiing about iit **

** CA: right wwhatevver then wwhere do you suggest i put it **

“I’ll tell you where you can put it,” you grumble, but check yourself. It’s not worth letting him get a rise out of you. He’s just dumb is all. A noob. He’s not doing this to razz you. Probably.

** TA: ok you have a Monarch, riight? **

** TA: know your “hive” folder? notiice how ii graciiou2ly left my awe2ome quiirk out for readabiiliity  **

** CA: hivve… **

Ugh, that’s right, all OS updates as of last sweep hide the fucking hive folder. Just another reason why ImperiOS is inferior as well as infuriating. Fucking highbloods and their shiny, silver, user-friendly pieces of garbage.

** TA: riight, Monarch, fuck **

** TA: iin the “acquirer” diirectory cliick on the “go” tab at the top and hold alt **

** CA: oh shit ok yes  **

** CA: here it is sol i found it **

** TA: ye2 good, cliick on that **

** TA: iin there you 2hould make a larva folder **

** CA: ok wwonderful noww wwhat **

** TA: put your fiile iin the new folder and get prepared **

** TA: we are gonna run thii2 biitch **

 

For some pan-meltingly inconceivable reason, you are getting...a little excited about this. You’re not sure if it’s his lack of snarky commentary or just the fact that, fuck, you love giving a good CS tutorial. Either way, you forget to be especially venomous as you guide him through the steps of opening his command console, changing the directory and listing the file contents. Wiggler stuff.

 

** CA: alright this is wwhat ivve got **

** CA: http://tinyurl.com/screenshot002**

 

You roll your eyes at the lack of hyperlink, and paste this into your browser. His console text reads the following:

 

Last Login: Bi Per 6 Dark Eq 15 22:30:33 on console 

[Eridans-MBP:~ Eri$ cd larva

[Eridans-MBP: larva Eri$ ls

hello.larva

Eridans-MBP: larva Eri$ []

 

Good. He hasn’t fucked anything up yet.

 

** TA: riight 2o **

** TA: before you run the program you need two compiile iit **

** CA: do you wwanna see it before i do that **

** TA: nah iit’2 ju2t hello world ii’m 2ure even you don’t need two debug **

** TA: ju2st type “larvac hello.larva” iinto the console **

** CA: ... **

** CA: ok i guess i fucked somethin up **

** CA: http://tinyurl.com/screenshot003**

****

 

The “yet” was of course the operative word. His console now reads:

 

Last Login: Bi Per 6 Dark Eq 15 22:30:33 on console

[Eridans-MBP:~ Eri$ cd larva

[Eridans-MBP: larva Eri$ ls

hello.larva

[Eridans-MBP:larva Eri$ larvac hello.larva  
Hello.java:4: error: cannot find symbol  
System.out.printIn("Hello, wworld!");  
         ^  
 symbol:   method printIn(String)

 Location: variable out of type PrintStream  
1 error  
Eridans-MBP:larva Eri$ []

  


He sends you his .larva file and you scoff.

** TA: oh no you don’t **

** TA: you’ve got two do the debuggiing on your own **

** TA: ii can’t 2poonfeed you liike a wiiggler iif you want two learn **

** CA: fine just **

** CA: hold on ok **

 

Ok yes, you are giggling a bit evilly. The ehehes are cruel and overbearing. Without even opening his code you know exactly what the issue is. You tab out to browse the web while you wait for him to realize how stupid he is.

 

** CA: sol please i cant figure it out i evven retyped the wwhole flippin thing **

 

You read his notification and now you are seriously dissolving into maniacal giggles. It’s too good, you don’t want to tell him. You push back from your desk lightly, your smirk firmly plastered and wander off to fix yourself another bowl of cereal. You can hear the pinging from the Meal Block.

 

** CA: come on **

** CA: its not the spacing right **

** CA: all the capital letters are fine, i evven DOUBLE checked **

CA: Sollllllll

Settling down in front of your computer again, you take undeserving pity on his fishy ass.  
TA: iit’s an ‘l’  
TA: not an ‘i’  
CA: ???

You scoff. If he can’t get what you’re talking about with a hint that obvious, he doesn’t deserve to be around computers. But, you give it to him.

TA: iit’s ‘println’, 2ludgepan  
TA: not ‘printin’

 

You hope that the ensuing pregnant silence is due to him bludgeoning his skull with blunt objects. In fact, what is that sound? Something like, the music of a massive fuckweasel beating himself up like a wizard’s naughty hive-elf. You take a smug sip of coffee. Who said teaching wasn’t rewarding?


End file.
